Family Bonding, Trolling, and Food
by IceEckos12
Summary: Bruce and Alfred are gone for two weeks, which means Dick and Tim are left alone in the manor, fending for themselves. Everything's going great, except for the food situation-will they be able to survive, or will they kill each other first?


**Disclaimer: I no own YJ.**

"Master Timothy." Alfred's eyes sparked with amusement at the sight of the young teen standing on his doorstep, looking quite a bit like an abandoned puppy, clothes dripping wet with rain. He appeared to be absolutely soaked through, and had a miserable expression on his face. "Please come inside. I will retrieve a towel for you…do you wish to have some cookies?" He was already walking towards the closet nearby, a purposeful step in his stride.

"Please." Tim said gratefully, not bothering to tell the butler that 'just Tim' was fine. They had known each other for so long that Tim knew it would have no effect on the persistent man. Knowing Alfred, he would get a mug of his famous hot chocolate, which Tim could not _wait _for. He shivered violently as he stepped through the door, his eyes instinctively taking in the house around him. It _was _a nice house...

Alfred, who had been rummaging around in the closet, came out with a towel and surprisingly enough, a spare change of clothes. "Oh dear." He murmured dryly. "I seem to have put this oddly convenient change of spare clothes in this closet—and in your size, too! Call yourself lucky, Master Tim." Lips quirked into a small smile, he handed him the pile of clothing and the towel. "Bathroom's just around the corner."

"Wow Alfred!" Tim pressed the shirt to his nose—it smelled like that really good laundry detergent the Wayne family always used. It was the same style of clothing he wore, too—then again, his style had always been very similar to Dick's. He had to admit, his adopted older brother had always influenced his choices. "Thanks!" His spirits lifted as he shook off his soggy shoes and careened away, slipping slightly because of the wetness.

When he got out again, feeling warm and dry, all he had to do was follow the heavenly scent into the kitchen to figure out where the butler was. Alfred was there, cooking something in a pan on the stove, a plate of cookies already on the table. "Help yourself, Master Tim." He gestured to the cookies with one hand as he poured the mixture from the pan—which turned out to be hot chocolate—into a mug nearby. Then he carried the drink over to the table, where Tim was tearing into the plate of chocolate cookies with a sort of animalistic ferocity.

He paused in his eating long enough to thank Alfred, before turning back to the cookies, only to stop when Alfred coughed for Tim's attention. He looked over expectantly at the stoic butler, wondering what was on his mind.

"I'm sorry Master Timothy, but I must be leaving now."

Tim blinked in surprise. "Um, okay. Why?"

"I must go visit my sister…she is quite ill." Alfred smiled down at the teen. "Master Dick should be home soon, though, so you shouldn't be alone for long."

"Alright." Tim was sad to see him go, and not just because of the loss of his awesome food. Alfred was almost like an uncle to him. "How long will you be gone?"

"Two weeks at the most." Alfred responded amiably, picking up his hat nearby and placing it primly on his head. "Now I'm afraid I must make haste…goodbye Master Timothy."

"Seeya Alfred. I hope your sister gets better. Safe flight." He waved to the butler, watching him as he left. It was only too late that he realized that he had forgotten to ask where Bruce was…probably at work. Tim shrugged, and pulled another cookie from the plate. Just one more…

An hour later, Dick still hadn't shown up. Not that Tim was getting impatient, but there was only so much you could do at the Wayne household without getting bored out of your mind. He wondered how Dick had stood it for all those years, and decided not to question it. There were some things he did not need to know about his sort-of brother. So he flopped onto the couch in the main living room and turned on the huge television, flipping through the channels, looking for something to entertain himself with. He had just stopped at the racing channel, debating how bored he really was, when a hand suddenly came down on his shoulder, scaring him out of his wits.

With a shout Tim rolled off the couch and fell to the floor, hands flailing in the air (which was actually a sort-of attempt to grab a weapon, but he was too shocked to attempt such complicated commands). He landed with a loud thud and the _whoosh! _of his precious air escaping. For several seconds he lay there on the ground, gasping for breath—until he heard the loud laughter above his head.

Tim twisted his head to look at the figure standing behind the couch, stooped over with laughter. "Dick!" He shouted angrily, pushing himself up onto his elbows.

"That was great!" The raven haired man shook his head, still laughing. "You scream like a girl!"

Tim suddenly grinned and launched himself up from the floor and over the couch, slamming into Dick with the force of a freight train. Dick barely wobbled, but in that time Tim had already found his brother's weak spot, and was tickling him mercilessly. "I'll give you something to laugh about!" He shouted as Dick began shrieking with laughter.

"Okay, okay!" The older male shouted, tears beginning to form in his eyes. "Uncle, uncle!"

Tim slid back onto the couch, a satisfied expression on his face. "So there, Dick."

"Alright, you win." He let out one last chuckle, stuffing his hands into his pockets and flipping nimbly onto the couch beside him. (He chuckled when Tim muttered, "Show off.") "Has Alfred left?"

"Yeah. Is he actually going to go visit his sick sister?" Tim shifted comfortably on the couch, stretching his legs out across the floor.

Dick shrugged. "At this point, he could be anywhere. I just don't really question it anymore." There was a short, comfortable silence. "So, have you eaten yet?" It was just around lunchtime, after all.

Now that Tim thought about it, he was getting awfully hungry. Those cookies seemed like so long ago… "Yeah, I'm ready for some food. How are you guys going to survive without Alfred cooking for you?"

Dick sent a half-hearted glare at the teen. "I'm not completely helpless, you know."

Tim took note of the 'I', not the 'we'— "Where's Bruce?" The thought occurred to him, and he glanced around curiously for the elusive older male. The thought had completely slipped his mind. Again.

"He's somewhere in Tibet, duking it out with Ra's al Ghul." Dick sighed soft and low, probably inwardly commenting on their longstanding rivalry, before getting up and stretching with a quiet groan. "Huntress agreed to watch Bludhaven for a bit while I take care of the house." He grinned at Tim a little, who easily caught the double meaning, and grinned in return. The two of them were going to hang in Gotham together and protect the streets as Robin and Nightwing! It was going to be like a super-hero slumber party.

"Can we invite the rest of the team?" Tim asked excitedly, imagining Blue Beatle and Garth chilling with him and Dick in the Batcave. Oh, that would be so cool…!

Dick smiled at him fondly, and gestured for him to follow. Tim easily leapt to his feet, trotting happily after the older male. "You know why we can't, Tim. As much as I'd like to." Suddenly his face darkened—and Tim knew what he was thinking about. The times where Wally and Dick would have sleepovers, and would stay up all night throwing popcorn at each other—

"So what's for lunch?" Tim was quick to ask, knowing that Dick would get into one of his depressed moods for the entire day if he didn't derail his train of thought.

The thoughts of a lighter, happier past fell from his mind. Dick shook himself, and forced a smile onto his face, looking down at his younger brother. "Well, I can make something…I have a lot of Romanian recipes my mother used to make for us…"

Tim wrinkled his nose—he had seen one of those 'dishes'. They looked a little disturbing, and didn't taste all that much better. Well, not just a little disturbing—quite a bit, actually. "How about something quick and easy? We could make ramen."

Dick stopped dead in his tracks, so suddenly that Tim ran into his back. While the shorter one backed away, rubbing his nose in confusion, Dick whipped around, a determined expression on his face.

"No brother of _mine _should _ever _eat such a disgrace of a food."

Shocked at the violent reaction, Tim's eyes widened in confusion as he continued to rub his nose. "Dick, what are you—?"

In a very theatrical manner, Dick threw up his arms and slammed them down on his brother's shoulders with more force than necessary—Tim's knees buckled slightly. "Salty. Calorie-filled. No nutritional value whatsoever. Those things are heart-attacks disguised in cheerfully wrapped packaging and Japanese letters!" He began shaking Tim. "_Do you understand?" _

"Oh my _God, _Dick!" Tim batted away his brother's hands, feeling a bit miffed. "Ramen won't kill you; it's only if you eat it excessively!" He reached out and poked his brother in his toned stomach, and then gave him the 'look'. "_Especially _you, mister exercise-freak."

"Hey." Dick defensively rubbed his stomach, half-turning away. "You think being this fit is _easy? _No, I am never _touching _that God-awful stuff. And if I even hear its _name _ghost your lips…" In a very threatening manner, Dick stuck his finger in Tim's face, so he had to go cross-eyed to see it. "I will come to your house and burn every package of that vile monstrosity."

Resisting the urge to laugh, Tim rolled his eyes and folded his arms, staring down his older brother with dry amusement. The only bat glare he was afraid of at this point was Batman's…but then again, Batman had created the lethal stare. Even though he wasn't scared, though, he realized that he wouldn't win this fight—at this point Dick could still beat the crap out of him during spars. "You're ridiculous."

"Why thank you. Now come on, I'm going to make some macaroni and cheese—hopefully that _will _be acceptable." Dick raised one eye brow at his younger brother, who sighed dramatically.

"I _suppose _it will do."

And thus the subject of ramen was dropped and mostly forgotten about.

Until later that night.

* * *

"You have _got _to be joking."

Robin's head flopped down to his chest as he wiggled ruefully in his restraints—not from exhaustion, but from the sheer hopelessness from the situation. Not that he wasn't certain that he would get out fine—no, it was what he was currently being hung over that got him so annoyed.

It had started as a normal night for Nightwing and Robin; at first a couple thugs, running around tracking rumors about Two-Face…but then they had gotten word that _Joker _was hanging around in a nearby ramen factory. This had amused the two of them greatly, and with much ribbing and ramen jokes they had sped towards the mostly silent place (there was only a team of security guards left at the large factory).

When they had gotten there they had immediately noticed that the guards were unconcious, and now sporting wide red smiles. Grimly the two of them decided that it was best to split up so they could cover more ground; Nightwing had gone inside, while Robin checked out the surrounding area, making sure he knew where the entrances were, or if Joker had laid any traps outside…

He had just been ducking around a crate when something had come up from behind and hit him over the head, so fast that he hadn't had any time to react. Blackness had taken him, and the next thing he knew he had awoken here, in these restraints, hanging over a pot of boiling…

"I do love ramen!" Joker squealed, throwing another package of it into the boiling water, which was currently shedding heat and steam directly at Robin. He was currently sweating in his body suit, sincerely regretting that he had never taken the time to put those temperature regulators in—Bruce had told him, again and again, and he had simply forgotten!

"I hope you choke on that." Robin growled and wiggled a little more, hoping to get at the knife in his belt just below his hands. However Joker had dealt with the Bat kids before—he had made it so that Robin could _nearly _reach the belt, but not quite.

"Ah-ah-ah!" Joker clapped his hands together, the grin on his face widening by the second. "That's not very nice! Especially since I'm taking the time to feed you! And hopefully Batsy, when he gets here." He clapped his hands together again and whirled around, reaching out to very-lovingly finger a button on the control panel nearby. "Where _is _our dear Batsy, I wonder?" Robin knew exactly what that button was—though he had no idea why, the control panel on the catwalk where Joker currently was on was connected to the machine he was being hung by. If Joker pressed that button, Robin would lurch downwards, closer to a death by boiling ramen.

What a lame way to die. Not that he would—he had complete faith in Nightwing. It was just that if he ever chose a way to die, boiled to death by ramen and eating his own words was not his first choice.

The sentence in question echoed back in his mind. _"Ramen won't _kill _you!" Oh haha, very funny Tim,_ Robin growled in his mind, _you know better than most that everything _and _anything can kill you in this line of work!_ If he didn't get free very soon he was going to have to suffer Dick's amusement for the rest of the week. Possibly the rest of the month. His wiggling got more energetic.

Joker turned around suddenly, though his finger was still on the button. Robin froze. "_Where is the star of our show?" _The clown asked, his expression becoming more dangerous by the second.

Robin shook his hair out of his sweaty face and lifted his head up with as much pride as he could muster, and was about to say something scathing that the Joker would laugh off anyway when he was interrupted by a loud shout of, "Hiya puddin'!"

Joker didn't even get the chance to look up before Harley Quinn was flung on top of him, hog-tied quite securely. A second later Nightwing appeared, and because Joker's exuberant partner was lying quite happily on the annoyed clown, he was defeated quite easily. Soon enough Joker and Harley were tied up to each other back-to-back, though it looked like the Joker was trying to murder her by backwards head-butting her to death.

Used to their theatrics by now, Nightwing rolled his eyes and grinned up at Robin, still not noticing what his younger brother was hanging over. He prayed that he would be untied and able to run by the time Nightwing noticed. "Hey Rob! How's it hanging?"

"Ha ha, very funny." Robin rolled his masked eyes at the joke. "That's only what, the millionth time you've used that?"

Nightwing chuckled. "Okay, one second. I'll get you…" His face suddenly turned confused as he caught sight of the caramel colored liquid burbling sulkily under Robin. "What…is that?"

Robin cringed, and bowed his head. It was too late. Since he was screwed anyway, he didn't respond. Just hoped that the results would be quick and painless.

"It's ramen. That nose of yours is pathetic." Joker sniffed behind him, in-between head-butting Harley again. Robin silently cursed him. Nightwing simply plucked something out of his belt and tossed it in their general direction, not even looking at the pair—knockout gas. He was obviously less amused with Joker than Robin was.

"Really Rob?" Nightwing asked, his eyes lighting up with mirth. "Is this true? Could this possibly be…" He paused, just for dramatic effect. The bastard. "_Ramen?"_

Robin glared, and wiggled a little more, hoping that if he moved enough the ropes would shift him so that his back was to Nightwing. No such luck. "Yeah, whatever. Just get it over with."

"Do you know what this _means, _Robin?" If they had been standing next to each other, Nightwing would've had one arm around Robin's shoulders, the other sliding across the air in front of them, illustrating his ideas. "I get to say…_I told you so." _

Robin's head fell again. Oh God. They were going to be here all night if the bird kept this up…

"'Ramen won't _kill _you.' Well what _now, _Rob?" Nightwing practically started to do a little dance on top of the catwalk, shimmying ungracefully, looking more like he was having a seizure than anything else. "What's this? Ramen _can _kill you! I _told _you so! I _tooooold you sooooo~" _Okay, the singing was just embarrassing.

Robin's face flushed in embarrassment, and he looked up, a sharp response already on the tip of his tongue. "Okay, I get it! I get it! Now can you—"

He was interrupted by the sudden flash of a camera.

There was only a moment of shocked silence, before Robin let out a ear splitting, "NIIIIIIGHTWIIIIIIING!"

* * *

When Tim went to the Bat cave the next day, his attention was almost immediately drawn the new wallpaper on the computer. He stared at it for just a second—a horrified, embarrassed second—as his eyes took in the flushed face, the curls of steam, the ropes tight around his small figure as he hung over a pot of boiling hot ramen...and the caption, in big letters, was 'I told you so'.

What was the worst part was that the computer had been encrypted by Dick—and the crafty older bird had made it so he couldn't change any of the computer settings.

Oh, he would pay. Tim's vision flashed red, and his fists clenched. He._ Would. Pay._

**Please don't ask me what I was thinking when I came up with this. Course, my Hetalia fans are going to kill me for making this, but hey, it's worth the risk. **

**I attribute this to Wiz-Witch and her sister, because they gave me the idea (Btw, check out some of her stories. Sinking is amazing.) There will probably be a second one to this, but it may take a while, so don't get your hopes up. I'm busy enough with my Shots and enormous project as it. it. **

**ARGH. I thought I was so behind in the YJ episodes, but I soon realized, 'Hey, not really! That big-*** hiatus keeps me current!' Sometimes I hate Cartoon Network. With a passion. **

**Does FF even need a disclaimer anymore? What with all the changes to the sight, I don't even know anymore...*sighs***

**IceEckos12**


End file.
